Broken Mirror
by WantedFangirl
Summary: Crowley had not intended to spend his evening this way. Technically he'd already spent it, being domestic with Aziraphale. But if he was going to be summoned halfway across the world to a schoolyard, it might as well be for a good reason.


**A/N: So, I've been writing and hanging around this fandom for months now, but hesitant to post anything, because I can and will get addicted, but here we are. This fic is actually pretty personal, ironically, but if I needed to write this then maybe someone else needs to read it. I just have a few things to clear up first:**

**This fic talks a lot about religion, specifically Christianity, and there's a lot of questioning, etc. I am not trying to attack this faith or anyone who believes it, but more working through experiences and issues me and people close to me have had with it.**

**Secondly, please heed the Internalised Homophobia tag, there's some pretty heavy stuff in here and I don't want to cause anyone distress. The character in question is dealing with some heavily institutionalised beliefs, and does begin to learn differently throughout the fic.**

While it may be a surprise to some, being a demon is not actually too fundamentally different from being a human, or even an angel.

They may posses certain unique abilities (shapeshifting, miracles, time-stopping, just to name a few), and lack others (most prominent example being imagination), but at their core they will still hate, love, moan, and feel they deserve better, same as humans and (though they may be loath to admit it) angels.

However, there are some parts of being a demon that are indisputably unique. Case in point being summonings.

Now, in theory, any being can be summoned, from an angel to a human to a duck, but the exact blueprint for doing so has not yet become available to anyone but the One who coded them. Someday, through some miracle, these shall be leaked, and a very tiny portion of the world will go crazy with it. The rest of the world, or wider universe for that matter, will not care, on account of nothing on the internet ever being believed.

Demon summoning, on the other hand, has existed for approximately six thousand years, due to the fact that God had still been pretty pissed off about the whole Rebellion thing, and decided to give everybody the ability to annoy them from the get-go. Mind you, it is still a fairly complex process, and these days you get more people trying to learn the gavotte than trying to summon demons.

The desperate, however, will always be willing to try, whatever the costs.

On the flip side, demons have become less fond of summonings as the years go by, and the process of who gets summoned tends to rely on two factors; which demon will be best suited to the humans problems, and, more importantly, who will look best for the image of Hell. It is why, despite thousands of years of hoping, Hastur has never been selected, as no person, no matter how desperate they were, would be open to surrendering their mortal soul to Hastur. In contrast, Crowley has found himself drawn to the summoning circle of some pitiful human countless times. He is marginally better at securing souls, but on the whole too likely to feel sorry for the human, or renegotiate the offer to instead get some fine cuisine, rare books, or even a most flattering portrait.

Thankfully, Crowley had not been summoned in decades, and did not expect he ever would be again, on account of his dramatic resignation from Hell. He was, of course, wrong.

* * *

It happened on a nice, relaxed night in. Crowley and Aziraphale had finished watching their way through several assorted adaptations of Pride and Prejudice, and the subsequent argument over whether the book was better or not (Crowley was often contrary simply for the sake of seeing Aziraphale passionately vent despite agreeing with him). Aziraphale was in the bathroom, getting ready for bed while moaning about sleep. Crowley was stood outside, giving a half-hearted argument in sleep's defence. It was old routine by now, as they both knew that eventually Aziraphale would be tempted into bed, they would cuddle for a while, Crowley would fall sound asleep, and Aziraphale would miracle a non-disturbing light to read his book by, or, in some dreaded cases, use The Kindle.

On this night, Crowley began to feel the tell-tale sparks of summoning before Aziraphale had even tried to get his opinion on the latest tartan pyjamas he was trying. Crowley barely had time to let out a yell before every figment of his being was being separated and torn across the world, or at least a great distance – he really wasn't sure on the location he was being summoned to.

A few seconds later, he felt a crash as he was pulled and reconstructed in the summoning circle. It felt like speed walking into a lamppost, and he gave a groan accordingly.

Once he'd recovered, he took a moment to observe his surroundings. The circle appeared to have been etched onto the concrete of a school playground, the strength wavering. The sky was dark, but it looked to be more like dusk than midnight. To his right was a figure in black jeans, muddy Converse ankle boots, and a loose, black hoodie that ineffectively hid the terrified face of a kid, who was thirteen at most.

He quirked an eyebrow, "Nice evening."

The kid nodded shakily, then took a deep breath.

"You're a demon, then?"

"Really? Hadn't noticed."

The kid glared at him for a moment before continuing, failing to appear confidant, "I'm here to make a deal with you."

"Well, at least you know that part. You'd be surprised how many buggers forget that this 'summoning a literal creature of Hell' thing has consequences. Though, to be honest, I'm doubtful you're prepared."

"To give my soul? Kinda guessed that part."

Crowley gave a small, observant nod, "Are you sure it will be worth it, is the real question."

"Oh yeah…" the kid looked surprisingly wistful, "I know it will be."

"Well," Crowley made a dismissive hand gesture, "what is it that you want so badly?"

The kid took another shaky breath before looking him eye to eye, "I want to be normal."

Go- Sat- _Shit_, Crowley wished he had his sunglasses. "I'm afraid you need to be a bit more specific…" he said gently.

"Sorry." The kid sounded on the verge of tears, "I just… the feelings I have… for other people… and about myself… it's not right. I need you to fix it."

Oh fuck, this was going to be a tough case to deal with. He sat down in the middle of the circle, gesturing for the half-collapsed kid to do the same.

"It's like this," the kid says, somehow sounding broken and resolute simultaneously, "I do everything right. I get good grades, I go to church, I'm good at basketball, and I still find time for Bible Study. Trust me, I know my Bible. It says that God wants it to be one man and one woman. But the thing is," the kid gives a slight sob, "_I don't want any of those things._ It's terrible, and sinful, but sometimes I fantasise… and I don't even feel like a man or a woman, but I still have all these feelings for both of them!" They took a deep breath, trying to regain control, "I don't know why this is happening to me, but I need it to stop. If my family ever found out, they'd be horrified. They'd take away everything I cared about, trying to fix it, and I love them, but I can't let that happen. It's something really wrong with _me_, and I need you to fix it."

Crowley watched as the kid broke into sobs, trying to figure out how to best go about this. He then put on his best reassuring voice, and said, as gently as he could;

"How do you know it's so wrong?"

The kid turned their head to glare at him, eyes shining, "I told you, it's in the Bible."

"How do you know the Bible is right?"

The kid stared at him like he was crazy, "The Bible is always right. It's the cornerstone of our faith."

"But how do you know that's the truth?"

"You-You're a demon!" The kid was truly incredulous, "A fallen angel. Like in the Bible. You're proof everything I believe in, everything I follow, that it's real!"

Crowley shrugged, "True, but the Bible was written by people, and translated a zillion times by people. You can't really bet everything on it. And besides," he hastily added upon seeing the look on their face, "you can't really tell me that everything you've just told me is there, indisputably."

The kid put their head on their knees, "It's still implied. Everyone knows that God hates people _like that_. All these people acting proud of their sinful desires, it's just them trying to bend God to their own will."

"Aren't you doing the same thing by saying what God hates?"

"It's _implied_. Besides, you've surely seen the sinners He damned to Hell."

"She never really has done much smiting herself, to be honest. That's more _certain angels'_ type of thing, and they are hardly perfect." The memory of Aziraphale's attempted execution drifted to him, still igniting fury after all those years, "Trust me."

"You're a demon," the kid said absent-mindedly.

"And another thing," Crowley continued, "none of us – demons and angels," he adds, seeing their confused expression, "none of us are men or women. Not really. Nor are you lot, once you off it – sorry, that was a little strong – but I really wouldn't worry too much about that."

The kid blinked owlishly at him, slowly recovering, "I guess… It does say that in the bible."

"Exactly, and I can tell you that even up there they don't give a shit about it. Honestly, they aren't much better than my lot – former lot – when it comes down to it."

"What… What about the other thing?" the kid said, hesitantly, "What does God think of that?"

Crowley shrugged, "I don't really know. She's not that great at communication - with any of us. My husband's an angel and he's heard jack shit from Her for thousands of years."

The kid stared at him for a moment, eyes as wide as saucers, "You… you're a _gay demon?_" they said incredulously.

Crowley clenched his teeth contemplatively, "I mean… not _technically_… but in practice you're not far off…"

They looked at him sceptically, "And you're _married_ to an _angel_?"

"Yep," he gave a slight grin.

The kid glared at him, "How do I know you're not just talking bullshit to encourage me to sin more?"

"I mean, there's this," he held up his wedding ring, which was about as angelic as jewellery could get, considering Aziraphale had worn it for six thousand years.

The kid leaned as close to the circle as they could to observe it, a ghost of a smile passing across their face.

"But really," he continued, hand still up, "you don't. It's just about whether you, truly, at heart, want to have your whole self changed like that. Especially when it's not necessary."

The kid looked at him a few more moments, before sighing resignedly. "I guess you're right. I just… it's hard to look at all you've ever known and realise it might be lies, ya know?"

Crowley nodded, "Trust me kid, I really do."

They stood up and smiled at him for a few seconds, before looking uncertainly at the circle.

"How do I send you back?"

Crowley groaned, "Normally I go whooshing away after completing the deal automatically, but as that's off you're just going to have to free me."

The kid took a reluctant step back, "How do I know you won't hurt me?"

"Do I _seem_ like I'd hurt you?"

"No, but you're still a demon."

"C'mon kid, I have better things to do than smiting schoolkids."

"Well," the kid made an exaggerated thinking expression, "do you have collateral?"

Crowley mock-glared at the kid, "No, you are not getting this ring. I did not dream of this for thousands of years to let some thirteen-year-old punk run away with the proof."

They gave a genuine giggle, "Okay, no really dangerous demon would say something that dorky," they leaned down and erased a few of the binding chalk symbols, deactivating the circle.

"Rude." Crowley said as he stood up and brushed himself off.

"Ya know, I did not think you'd be so British," the kid laughed.

"Eh, you live in a place a few centuries, you're bound to pick some stuff up."

"Wow," they shook their head, "_centuries_… that's crazy."

"Only to you mortals."

The kid laughed incredulously again, in a good way, before growing more serious again, "How will you get back?"

Crowley sighed, "I guess I'll have to fly back. I can miracle myself tickets and stuff, but sadly I can't miracle me. Feel like taking me to your nearest bus?"

"Okay. So, the way you were talking… is God a woman?"

"She's annoying, or 'ineffable' as my husband would say."

"Riiight…"

"Nah, seriously kid, let me teach you about pronouns…"

The two of them walked along dark suburban streets, past many bus stops, chatting as they went.

"So kid, what's your name anyway? You don't have to tell me," he added, seeing their hesitation.

"No, no, it's fine. It's Jess."

"Hey, that's like my middle name!"

"What's that?"

"J."

"Like the name?"

"Nah, it's just a 'J' really."

"Just… the letter 'J'?" Jess said confusedly.

"Yeaaah. I just figured 'Anthony J Crowley' had a nice ring, ya know?"

Jess laughed, "That's the least demon-y name I've ever heard."

"I mean, I started out as 'Crawly', but that really wasn't doing it for me, so I became 'Crowley'."

"And what, 'Anthony' is your married name?" Jess teased.

"Ha, not even close. The married thing is a fairly recent development."

"But you've known each other thousands of years?"

"Yup. Met in Eden."

"What?" they said excitedly, "Like the Garden of Eden?"

"One and the same."

"Were you there for the…" they mimed eating an apple.

Crowley snorted, "Kid, I was the one who tempted her."

"No way… you're pulling me on," Jess said, with a mix of awe and cynicism.

"Really. Aziraphale can confirm it."

"Aziraphale? Is that your angel husband?"

"Yup," he said, popping the 'P', "Aziraphale. Shit…"

"What?" Jess said, concernedly.

"I've been gone hours. He's probably freaking out."

"Do you wanna call him?" Jess asked, holding up a battered, old android phone.

"Yeah," Crowley reached to take it, before having a realisation, "actually… I've got an idea."

"What?"

"Demons aren't bound by the same physics as you lot. If we call him, I can travel through the phone connection and back home."

"Okaaay…" Jess said, looking confused and slightly disappointed.

"Nah, trust me, it's weird but it works. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah, my house is like, right over there," Jess gestured over to a quiet, residential street.

"Alright, let me walk you to it," Crowley said, attempting to appear casual.

The walk was in awkward silence, but only lasted a minute before they arrived at a small, suburban home.

"Right, I guess this is it," Jess said shakily.

"Yeah," Crowley stuck his hands in his pockets uncomfortably, "it'll be ok. You're great, the way you are. Tell people if you want. But more just… don't hate what you are. Whether it's because God made you that way or because you are amazing that way just… yeah," he finished with a well-meaning flourish of his hand.

Jess nodded at him, tears in their eyes, "Can I hug you?" they asked, hesitant and hopeful simultaneously.

"Duh," he said, awkwardly holding an arm out before being catapulted into a full hug by the kid.

After a minute or so they broke apart, and Jess held out their phone to him, "Right, do your thing I guess."

Crowley grinned, "Make sure to stop by A.Z. Fell and Co's bookshop if you're ever in London."

"Haha, I wish. Still, if my parents miraculously decide to take a vacation that's not got 'religious significance', I'll say hi."

"Well, miracles are what we do," he said cryptically.

Jess laughed, "Okay then."

Crowley then reached out, taking the phone and inputting the number for the bookshop. Aziraphale picked up on the third ring;

"Crowley, is that you?" he said, voice laced with worry.

"Yeah, gimme a sec," and with one last salute to Jess, he ran at the phone and travelled across a soundwave, back home.

* * *

He flew out of the receiver of Aziraphale's ancient rotary phone, colliding with his husband as he rematerialized, making both of them crash to the floor. A faint giggle came from the phone, before it clicked off.

"My dear, what on Earth-?!" Aziraphale began as he clambered to his feet, only to be pulled into a kiss.

"Sorry, just… I've had quite the night," Crowley said tiredly.

Aziraphale gazed at him fondly, watching him fiddle with his wedding ring out of habit, "Yes, I daresay you have, my darling. How about we have some hot cocoa and you tell me all about it?"

Crowley smiled as he let himself be gently pulled towards the kitchen, "Sounds perfect."

**A/N: If you relate to Jess, I'm really sorry, please find some comfort in the fact that you are not alone, and even if your home is not a safe space to talk about these things, there are places that are. You are wonderful, and sometimes we all need to follow in Crowley's footsteps (sauntering as they are) and question what we believe.**

**I am not Non-Binary and have never lived in America, so if I've screwed up blame my cousin who served as consult for those elements XD But in all seriousness, if you feel I have misrepresented something or been disrespectful, please let me know and I'll adapt it.**

**On a more cheerful note, now that I've overcome my fear of posting, you should begin to see more of my stuff popping up in the near future! I'm on Tumblr (wantedfangirl) if you wanna come hangout there, though I'll warn you in advance that it's a bit of a dumpster fire. No pressure to comment, but they are appreciated! I should probably also mention that I am not very active at all on this site, and only publishing here because I know some people prefer it. However, if you want to reach me it's better to find me on ao3 or Tumblr. Thank you for reading!**


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